


Sweet and Sour

by Monica_Hart



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Brendol Hux's A+ Parenting, Child Abuse, Gen, Ice Cream, Poor Hux, Star Wars Day, Young Armitage Hux
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 00:10:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14532411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monica_Hart/pseuds/Monica_Hart
Summary: Hux's life may be bitter, but ice cream helps him get through it.





	1. Age 4

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Hux in Lego Star Wars and the brilliant ice cream Hux fanart on the internet.
> 
> I'm assuming that fruits and vegetables like potatoes and strawberries exist in the Star Wars universe. 
> 
> Happy Star Wars Day!

Armitage knew better than to stop working and stare at the white creamy mixture. 

He'd tried tearing his eyes away from the glass bowl and focus on polishing the cutlery. But every time he turned away, he would always see the food that looked like the mashed potatoes he and Mother and the rest of the kitchen staff had for their meals, but was much lighter and seemed harder and more delicious. He would turn around for just a few seconds, then back to the floor lest Father--the Commandant happened to see him and shout and hit him and throw him in the dark place again.

But he was having a meeting with the funny looking old men, so he wouldn't be here to see him, right? And what was the food like if it wasn't mashed potatoes?

Having won over his fear, curiosity guided him to stand on tiptoe to peer at Not-Mashed Potatoes--he had been always small and skinny, but Mother promised him he would grow tall one day. He certainly hoped so, so he wouldn't fit in the dark place.

The whiteness of the mixture stood out against the grey kitchen walls and bench. He could feel how cold it was by seeing the condensed water droplets forming on the bowl--Mother just taught him that yesterday. He smiled and sniffed in the smell of milk and flowers--at least, he thought it was flowers, but who ate them? But it smelt really good, and probably tasted the same too, so why not try just a little bit--

“Armitage!” He jumped around to see Ellis, one of the servants standing a few feet behind him. “It's for the Commandant, and he wants you to bring it up to his office.”

Armitage shuddered at the mention of ‘office'. “Do-do I have to?” He stuttered.

“I'm sorry, but I can't disobey orders.” She handed him the bowl and patted his shoulder. “I know you don't want to go there, Armie. But you have to be brave. For yourself and your mother and me and for everyone else.”

He nodded hesitantly. “Good. I'll see if there's some leftover cake for you. Just don't let him see you're scared, alright?” Ellis went back to her work and he shuffled out into the hallway. 

The Commandant’s office was at the end of a dark passage on one of the highest floors. It could be reached by a long flight of winding stairs. Each step was about the height of Armitage’s calf, and they went on and on forever. That was only one of the reasons why he feared going to the office. 

He paused for a while at the top, catching his breath and wiping his sweat with his sleeve. Not-Mashed potatoes was starting to melt, the ice crystals on the surface of the scoop evaporating--another word he'd learnt yesterday. His hands were cool and wet compared to the rest of him.

For an instant, he wanted to just take a little taste of it to cool off and know what it feels like to eat something that looks and smells so divine, at least just once. 

The piercing eyes of the gigantic portrait of the Commandant shattered his brief fantasy into a million shards. He hastily ran to the end of the corridor, avoiding meeting the eyes of any more portraits.

“Those blasted Rebels--” the Commandant was shouting at someone. Armitage wanted to drop the bowl and run away. Whenever the Rebels were mentioned, it made the Commandant very angry. And when he was angry, he liked to throw things and and hurt him a lot. But he had to be brave for everyone, and if the Commandant did not get his food, he would get even more angry. 

Armitage knocked on the door slowly. “Who's there?” The Commandant growled. 

“I've… I've come to bring up your food, sir.” His voice shook like his hands were.

“It's about damn time,” came the response. Armitage pushed opened the heavy door and tried not to cower in terror at the Commandant and the other occupants of the room, all wearing uniforms. 

“Is that your son, Brendol?” One of them asked.

“No, he's just some servant boy.” The Commandant gruffly replied.

“He's got the same hair as yours.”

“He's not. Tell them you aren't, boy.” He barked at Armitage. 

“I'm-I'm not his son.” 

“See? He's just a weak boy. If I had a son, he would be anything but this boy here.” The commandant grabbed the bowl and began spooning the contents of it into his mouth. “Couldn't you bring it up faster? It's melting. How the hell am I supposed to eat it? Do you know how to walk?”

“S-sorry, sir.”

“Useless boy.” The Commandant slurped the rest of the melted white liquid, glowering at him the whole time. Armitage looked down. The Commandant’s glare burned a huge hole in his stomach like it always did, sending his previous pride at remembering scientific knowledge and difficult words down a deep pit. He should feel glad that it was only the death glare, but he couldn't. 

Perhaps he should have took a small taste of it back outside. 

Even with his head bowed down, he glanced a few times at the rapidly disappearing ball of ice, imagining what it would be like to eat it. 

The Commandant wiped his mouth on his sleeve and flung the bowl back to him, nearly toppling him over when he caught it. 

“Did you taste any of this on the way?” The Commandant demanded.

“No sir.”

“Do you want to taste this?”

“N-no, sir. I-I would never--”

“This is for people who've earned it. You've earned nothing but shame and another reason why you don't deserve to be here. Remember who you are: nothing.” The Commandant looked down and sneered, pushing Armitage against a wall. “And you'll always be nothing.” The Commandant sneered. “Now get out!”

Armitage ran out of the room.


	2. Age 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage's life gets a little sweeter, thanks to a certain Grand Admiral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late update. This chapter took me forever to finish, but at least I did.
> 
> I had a hard time writing Rae. I thought she'd be strict but understanding, and a way nicer and appropriate surrogate parent than Brendol. Then again, we don't know much about her. 
> 
> This chapter can be read as a standalone one-shot.

_ TIE Fighters exploding… blaster shots firing… a brown hand gripping a pale gnarly one and shaking it… a tall red headed man in a greatcoat walking onto the bridge of a ship…  _

 

_ “Prepare the weapon.” A booming voice said. _

 

_ “All remaining systems will bow to the First Order!” The same man shouted to a sea of white. _

 

_ Planets crumbling to dust as beams of red light touched their surface… a space station blowing up, becoming a supernova… a ship being split into halves… _

 

_ “Long live… the Supreme… Leader…” The same man choked. _

 

_ Red flowers blooming on the white ground… the man being thrown into a wall, forgotten, all pride and dignity gone… _

 

_ “You're nothing.” The Commandant, no, it's Father now, sneered. “You're just a flimsy sheet of paper-- thin and just as useless and weak.”  _

 

_ “Useless...weak…” his words echoed. “Nothing…” _

 

“Armitage? Armitage, wake up.” Armitage's eyelids fluttered open. Grand Admiral Sloane was standing in front of him.

 

He quickly got off the armchair he was sleeping in and pulled on his boots, trying to look as serious and awake as possible. “Good evening, Sir.” He saluted her. Or was it morning already? There were no sunrises in space, just darkness and coldness, occasionally a few faraway stars blinking and waving at him, but they never talked to him or hugged him like his mother did. Speaking of Mother, where was she now? Was she still in the kitchens, waiting for him to come back?

 

“It’s a surprise to see you outside your quarters, Armitage. Shouldn’t you be sleeping there instead of in the study?” The Grand Admiral inquired.

 

“No...I… I wanted to see the stars, and then I must’ve fallen asleep.” He lied.  How was he supposed to tell her that sleeping in an armchair was better than sleeping on the floor while his drunk father threw empty bottles at the wall and cursed the New Republic?

 

She frowned. “You’re lying. It’s your father, isn’t it? Does he still beat you? Does he still hurt you?” 

 

“No...I, I…” He stuttered, much to his annoyance.  _ Stop murmuring, boy, _ Father once scolded him.  _ You can't make up your mind. That's why you’re useless. _

 

“Is it him? Don’t lie to me, Armitage, it’s Brendol, right--” 

 

“I--I don't know--” he was interrupted by the loud rumbling of his stomach. 

 

Grand Admiral Sloane raised her eyebrows and asked quietly, “When was the last time you ate?”

 

His face flamed up as he sheepishly answered, “Once after we boarded-- or maybe twice-- I don't remember.” 

 

He heard her cursing Father under her breath. He shouldn't had said that. If Father knew he ratted him out--

 

_ You're useless… weak… soft…  _

 

“Armitage?” She put her hands on his shoulders and shook him. The room stopped spinning and her face came into focus. “Look at me. Breathe in. Breathe out. That's right. Who am I?”

 

“Grand Admiral Sloane.” He whispered. 

 

“And who are you?”  _ You're nothing… you're a thin and useless piece of paper… _

 

“Nothing--I--mean Armitage Hux.” It felt a little weird to say his last name. Before on Arkanis, he was just Armitage. Father never allowed him to say that he was a Hux. 

 

A flash of hatred and shock swept past her face, but she didn't say any remark. “It must be your low blood sugar levels. You'll have something to eat in my quarters.”

 

“Yes Sir.”

 

“And you're wearing your boots on the wrong feet.”

 

“S--sorry Sir.” He quickly took them off and wore them again. He expected her to scold him for doing the simplest thing wrong, but instead she sighed:

 

“Don't do it again. Come along.”

 

Being the commander of the Imperialis, Grand Admiral Sloane’s quarters were slightly larger and fancier than his and Father's, which Father often grumbled about. She didn't seem to care about the design of the room however; as she didn't waste time to admire the portraits and statues before rummaging through the food compartments. 

 

“Eat this,” she tossed a ration bar on a nearby table. 

 

“Thank you.” He finished the flavourless meal in a short while, but he still wanted more. 

 

He couldn't ask her for another ration bar, right? She wasn't just helping him because she wanted to. No one did that. There was always a reason behind. Besides, he didn't deserve her favours. He didn't deserve people being good to him. 

 

“Do you want more?” She asked him.

 

“No, I'm fine, thank you sir.” He replied.

 

“First, you don't have to call me Sir in private. Or at least when your father's not here. Second, you can ask for more if you're hungry.” 

 

“I'm not hungry Sir--” 

 

“Rae, please. And I can spare another bar.”

 

“C--can I have some more please, Sir--I mean Rae? I'm sorry, please don't--”

 

“You don't have to be sorry all the time, Armitage. I'm not your father. I don't punish children over trivial things.” She searched for another bar. “Never mind about ration bars. There's something much better to eat.” She took out a large tub and uncapped it. “It's still edible.” She sniffed the contents. 

 

“What is it?” 

 

“It's strawberry ice cream.” She found two spoons, and started transferring the pink mixture to two bowls. “I think you'll like it.”

 

He stared at her blankly. “You've never seen it before?” She inquired, surprised. “Your father eats it all the time--oh.”

 

Armitage remembered an afternoon a year ago, where he had seen this ice cream, but in white. Pink was definitely a better colour than white. It was happier and brighter, which were things he never knew. 

 

“Don't eat too much at once. You'll have a headache,” she warned him.

 

Hesitantly, he took a small spoonful of it-- and it was nothing he'd ever tasted before. It wasn't mashed potatoes, nor was it hard bread, and it was a like those flavourless ration bars. It was simply delicious. 

 

It was cold and icy, and it froze his mouth and brain--but the numbness passed after a while, replaced by soft, creamy sweetness. He’d tasted strawberries before on his third birthday, when Mother bought him some in secret. They were the best things he’d had in his life until this, though the artificial strawberry flavour was a little sour to his liking. His eyes grew wide as the brain freeze kicked in, but he was awake and his blood was pounding. Even though his mouth was a block of ice, he felt warm and fuzzy and happy inside.

 

He didn’t care about what Father would think if he saw him right now. He didn’t think about table manners. He just wanted to have more of this amazing ice cream. 

 

He emptied the entire bowl, practically shovelling it into his mouth and licked the spoon clean. When he looked up, he met Grand Admiral Sloane’s--no, Rae’s dark eyes. “I’m sorry--I--I” he stammered.

 

She started laughing. “Why are you saying sorry for? You’re just hungry and excited, even though you should have remembered your dining etiquette lessons. No, I won’t tell your father about that,” she added. Armitage sighed in relief. 

 

“You love ice cream, don’t you?” He nodded, smiling--Father doesn’t let him smile, but he was just so delighted that he couldn’t stop it. 

 

“I knew it. If you want more of this, just ask. I won’t tell anyone.”

 

“Alright. Do you want anything in return?”

 

“Did your Father tell you this?”  

 

“He--he says there’s always a cost for everything.”

 

“Damn you, Brendol.” He heard Rae curse under her breath. He didn’t like it. Father did that all the time. Rae wasn’t Father. She was way kinder, just like Mother but firmer. 

 

Armitage wondered if Rae could be his mother, but he knew that was impossible. She was his superior, and he was, well, according to Father, nothing.   

 

“Well… you can study hard, become a General when you grow up and make me proud.” she said. “And learn to stand up for yourself. I can’t be there for you all the time, so you’ll have to fight off people who mistreat you yourself.”

 

“Yes, Rae. I won't let you down--” he yawned, then covered his mouth in embarrassment. 

 

"I'm sure you won’t, after you get some sleep on a proper bed.” Rae opened a cabinet and took a fold up cot and a blanket out. "I don’t think your father would appreciate you waking him up in the middle of the night. And you know, you can stay over any time you want.”

 

“R--really?’

 

‘That’s an order. Sleep well, Armitage.” 

 

“Yes Mother--I mean Rae, Sir.”

 

She smiled slightly at his slip of the mouth. Flushing, he smiled back. 

 

He had a much happier dream that night, about a strict but fair leader with dark eyes and a smile, and strawberry ice cream. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Star Wars fanfic, so if you have any constructive criticism or feedback, feel free to leave a comment. Thank you and happy Star Wars Day!


End file.
